


Beta-testing

by beaubete



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:44:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaubete/pseuds/beaubete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q tries out a new look or two, to varying success.  Inspired by Ben Whishaw's magnificent pornstache at the Lilting premiere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beta-testing

**Author's Note:**

> So fandom still doesn't seem to have settled one way or the other on Mr. Whishaw's latest attempt at facial hair. Is it brilliant? cheesy? sexy? ridiculous? Does it make him look like your father, or like the first man you ever found attractive? It's inspirational either way!
> 
> This ficlet was originally posted on my tumblr, and I've brought it over to archive.

It takes all of Bond’s considerable willpower to bite back the startled cry when Q turns around. Instead, he coughs discretely.

"There’s, ah," he starts, "something. On your face."

"Very funny, Double-oh Seven," Q says wryly, but his cheeks pink. It’s flattering, certainly, would be adorable if it weren’t for— "I’m trying it out, beta testing as it were. Shall I put you in the ‘no’ category?" 

It’s not the worst moustache he’s ever seen, but there’s something ratlike about the way it straggles across Q’s upper lip. It puts him in mind of cheesy French waiters and the kind of awful fake accent to go with declarations of ‘hon hon hon baguette’. ”I think perhaps you’d better,” Bond tells him gravely. Q sighs and makes a tick on his tablet, then sets it aside to fetch Bond’s pistol.

It’s an interminably long mission. Bond aches with fatigue, but he copes, slumping into the chair in Q’s office with a weary sigh. ”Pleasure to have you back, Double-oh Seven,” Q says, and Bond stares.

"It’s spread," Bond manages, and Q sports a patchy blush to go with the patchy beard that’s crawled across his chin. "Is it like a rash?"

"Don’t be an ass," Q retorts. "Give me your gun and go drink it off like a good little alcoholic." Bond raises a brow at the obvious attempt at offense and does as told.

"Better mark me down for ‘no’ on this one, too," he adds as he ducks out, chuckling at the sound of the phone hitting the door behind him.

The next time he sees Q, he’s shaved away the beard. The moustache is still there, looking all the fuller for the beard’s absence, bristly and broomish. It’s an interesting counterpoint to the forelocks Q’s let get long; in focusing on his facial hair, he’s let everything else go long and curling, and dark twists of hair nudge at the edge of those cut-glass cheekbones like a flapper’s bob. There’s something strikingly masculine in the femininity, but it’s more drag king than manly, and Bond reaches up to touch the thick push of hair along the corner of Q’s lip. 

"You could wax the tips and curl them like a Victorian villain," he tells Q, and Q scowls. 

"It was itchy."

"Moneypenny said it made you look like Guy Fawkes, didn’t she?"

"She said it made me look like a sixth former with a dirty chin," Q admits. 

"I wouldn’t have sold you a beer," Bond admits. 

"Arsehole," Q snaps, flustered. "Get out of my office."

When Bond comes back from Antigua, Q’s testing another look. The mission was convoluted, stretching several months; he finds Q’s had the time to grow something fuller on his chin, and the moustache is gone. The thicker beard is curly, denser than its predecessor, and Q looks more confident.

"I’ve been told this one looks good," Q says before Bond has a chance to disparage it.

"By whom?" Bond asks, and Q swears. "I’m going to come back to you with a shaved head, aren’t I?"

"No," Q says miserably. "I know that that one makes me look even younger."

"Is that the point of this?" Bond asks, surprised. "Who says you need to grow a beard like Merlin in order to be taken seriously?"

"You do," Q accuses. "You act like I’ve escaped from a school tour and accidentally wandered down here."

"And you act like I need to swim my way up from the bottom of the bottle before coming in to work every day, Q. It’s just a little needling. Harmless teasing," Bond says, but he can see for Q it’s not. Q’s shoulders draw down and he flushes.

"Pigtail pulling," Q confirms.

"If you like. I can actually pull your hair instead," Bond offers.

"Not before the third date and a bottle of wine," Q tells him, and Bond laughs. Under his fingertips, Q’s beard is as soft as it looks, curling around the pads of his fingers gently. He kisses Q, then pulls back with a frown to rub at his chin, where he knows red irritation is setting in. There’s a curl stuck to his lip; he pulls it away with a laugh.

"Better put me down for a ‘no’ on this one, too."

"Don’t you like me with any hair at all?" Q grouses, pulling back.

"That’s a third date question," Bond says, laughing.


End file.
